


A Not-So-Modest Proposal

by Reccea



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-15
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:32:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm pretty much left with you as the only reasonable person to assume the mantle of protecting my mind in perpetuity. So we should get married before I'm speared to death by some alien with rudimentary weapons and statistically improbable aim."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day Don't Ask, Don't Tell was rescinded in favor of an open tolerance policy, John was kind of amazed by the number of people who came out to him. Most of them weren't even military, which puzzled John a little but he figured that it was the scientists' way of showing solidarity. Which John appreciated but he wished they'd have shown it to Elizabeth instead. He was ten minutes late to the gateroom after Miko had started crying and admitted that she wasn't gay but that she thought maybe her life would be easier if she were because then she wouldn't be a slave to her father's expectations. John thought the only way being gay was going to make life any easier was because it'd mean she was no longer infatuated with McKay.

It turns out that even at thirty nine John wasn't any good with crying women, gay or not.

Of the soldiers who did out themselves, three looked nervous, two stuttered, one wore a rainbow tank top at the gym, and one looked like she was going to be sick. And they had, all seven of them, looked at him expectantly. John really hadn't ever cared, and he'd already known about four of them, so he'd said "Thanks" and "Cool" and let that be that.

The mess hall had been decorated in rainbow streamers (Elizabeth's idea) which John thought was nice enough, though it clashed with the stained glass windows. The food was cut up into triangles which John thought was more than a little silly, and there was cake which John supported wholeheartedly.

It turned into something of a party, and John had flashbacks to high school because once again, there was a girl's side of the dance floor and a boy's side, but for entirely different reasons. It'd been years since John had seen that many people make out in public and he ended up leaving early because, honestly, he still had paperwork that needed to be done from the morning and he'd never been a PDA kind of person.

When he got back to his office he could tell that the weekly data feed from the SGC had come through. His inbox was significantly fuller than it had been before and he also had about fifteen forwards from Elizabeth and Rodney all about DADT.

John found it kind of amusing that he'd now officially spent more time on the job dealing with DADT after it was over than he ever had when it was in effect. Also, he now had concrete confirmation that Rodney and Elizabeth gossiped to each other.

Apparently no one had outed themselves to Rodney and only a few had come to Elizabeth. But they both felt that if John had something to say then they were all ears. John deleted that one.

One of the botanists married one of the enlisted soldiers in a Canadian civil ceremony that Elizabeth officiated. And then all anyone, gay or straight, talked about was marriage, getting married, and wedding gifts. John spent a lot more time in his office.

One year away from forty and John had become accustomed to being a confirmed bachelor. He liked his life, liked the status quo and while a little more sex would be nice, so would a lot fewer wraith and the latter was quite a bit more important than the former. He did have hands, after all.

Plus, while he'd never actually admit to it, flying the puddlejumper was really kind of better than sex.

The fervor mostly died down after a few months and John sincerely hoped that life would go back to being a series of near death experiences and paperwork and stop being about sending orders to Waterford via the SGC. He should have known better. John really only had good luck when it was absolutely necessary to his survival. The rest of the time he had to deal with 10,000 year old Robinson Crusoe Wraiths and smoke versions of the Blob.

Basically, he should have seen the Rodney thing coming. And maybe he would have if he'd realized that Rodney was _insane_.

John was finishing up his latest mission report (food was excellent, alien people were completely batshit, but there was one Ancient artifact that kind of looked like a squeegee but glowed bright yellow) when Rodney walked into his room without even knocking.

John sincerely regretted that one time he let Rodney come inside because, as he'd rightfully feared, it had morphed into an open invitation. Elizabeth might have wanted to always talk about his feelings but at least she knocked. (But then Elizabeth thought courtesy should be common and Rodney thought it was only for the common moron.)

The door closed and Rodney said, "We should get married."

John set his laptop aside on the bed. "I'm sorry?" It wasn't actually the first marriage proposal that John had received but at least before there had been warning signs and, hell, a basis. "Rodney, we're not even dating."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Well, of course not with your desire to act in a thoroughly pedestrian hetero-normative manner befitting the American military. But that's not even the point."

John thought perhaps he'd missed something pretty major here. He said slowly, "It's not...?"

"No." Rodney shook his head. "I've been running the statistics and it's becoming increasingly likely that my life, and with it my indispensable brain, are going to be lost on one of our missions."

Okay, so this was all about a fear of mortality. That, John could deal with. "Oh, come on, Rodney."

Rodney stepped right over to John's bed. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Colonel, you and Zelenka are the only people on Atlantis that I feel I can leave the responsibility of my place in history to."

"Okay, well, that's bizarrely complimentary." John was just guessing, though, because he didn't know what exactly Rodney meant by that. He leaned back against his pillow, smiling patiently, because this could get really amusing.

"Isn't it?" Rodney smiled brightly for a moment and then shook his head. "But I'm a little concerned with Radek's loyalties, since Lord knows my work is only about a hundred times more revolutionary than his so I'm pretty much left with you as the only reasonable person to assume the mantle of protecting my mind in perpetuity. So we should get married before I'm speared to death by some alien with rudimentary weapons and statistically improbable aim."

Definitely amusing, but John felt the need to nip this right in the bud. "Okay, but see I'm still on the not dating thing."

Rodney's entire posture changed, his shoulders slumping and his mouth going thin and tight. "Fine," he said with an almost sneer. "I'm a really damn good lay. Does that make any easier to understand?"

John opened his mouth but then closed it right back up because he honestly had nothing to say to that.

Rodney sighed, the look on his face the one he usually reserved for the tragically slow on the uptake, and said, "Just think about it," before he stalked back out.

The thing was that John had never actually thought about it before because, well, it was _Rodney_. But now that Rodney had said something, John couldn't stop thinking about it. It was like those stupid illusion pictures from the early nineties. Once you saw the dinosaur you could never _not_ see it.

John had really hated those things.

And Rodney? Well, Rodney started talking about things like wills and health care directives during missions and eating a lot of really obscene fruit. He was licking his fingers constantly which John swore he'd never done before. John would have noticed that.

(Not to mention the fact that it was just encouraging Ronon's refusal of silverware. Teyla seemed to be noticing too because she never really ate with them in the mess hall anymore and she kept smacking John's hands during their sparring sessions.)

The point being John noticed. He noticed because Rodney, the bastard, was doing his very best to make John think of sex or marriage every time they even saw each other. Really, John would have thought about those things anyway because Rodney had fucking proposed and then had basically proposed fucking and... John spent a lot of the next two weeks with his head in his hands.

It wasn't that John forgot how incredibly relentless Rodney could be when he was fixed on something; it was that he'd never been fixed on John before. Rodney sent emails with detailed equations on the likelihood of each team member's survival of five more years going off-world. It was really kind of depressing and John started making himself work out in the mornings with the marines _and_ in the evenings with Ronon. Also, he sent Rodney to Carson for a physical. Just in case.

Rodney sent an addendum email with the statistics for resurrection and spontaneous healing from mortal injuries. John still didn't let Rodney out of his new Carson-prescribed workout regime. John figured that maybe having Rodney that pissed at him would help with the not thinking about sex thing.

John was sometimes just as bright as he pretended to be.

"You are a vindictive son of a bitch," Rodney grunted as he tried, and failed to lift the barbell.

John nodded in agreement, already pulling off five pounds from each side.

"Juvenile." Rodney got the bar up this time. "Asinine." And down. "Imbecile."

"Now, that's just not very polite." John had one hand under the bar, spotting Rodney.

Rodney took a deep breath, pushing the bar back up and speaking even faster than normal. "All this, just because I suggested a perfectly reasonable, legal agreement providing you with quite a lot of power, prestige, and financial security."

John watched Rodney's face turn red as the bar slowly inched back down to his chest. John's eyes narrowed. "So, you're saying you want me to be your trophy wife."

Rodney got the bar back up and onto the rack over him. "Looks and charm are perfectly acceptable contributions to a marriage."

John's right eye twitched.

"And while my contribution would be admittedly greater, yours would still be valuable. I mean honestly have you ever been to an after party for a Nobel Prize. Drunken socially backwards people attempting to mingle while wearing suits and dresses that haven't seen the light of day since the seventies. Trust me, your services will be greatly appreciated."

"I see." John narrowed his eyes a little more in the hopes that the right one would stop twitching.

"And while I'm not generally a romantic man I think that with my brains and your ... " Rodney trailed off and looked at John's face speculatively. "You should see your hair from this angle. It's really quite something."

It was a good thing that John was only a violent man under duress.

"Rodney..." John said warningly, because he was _this_ close to turning that prescribed jog into a run for Rodney's sorry little life.

"Plus," Rodney smiled to himself, a little wistfully, "the sex would be fantastic."

John was really going to have to come up with a response to that eventually.

Rodney had this funny mouth that constantly went crooked when Rodney was angry, sad, happy, or just talking. It was one of those quirks that John had filed away for future reference and never expected to think about again. Of course then an alien "pseudo-scientist" (tm McKay) actually commented on how interesting it was, how very unique, how _fascinating_.

And John had to concentrate very hard on Rodney's forehead for the rest of the day. Because Rodney didn't have the kind of mouth that turned John on except that it seemed he did. It was just that Rodney was always talking, and making faces, and just generally moving that mouth. And it drove John crazy because he couldn't, for the life of him, explain why it was attractive when it should just have been irritating.

"See, the thing is, you're athletic," Rodney said when they were walking back to the living quarters. "And while I'm not, I make up for it with determination and enthusiasm."

John had been talking about negotiation styles and how trying not to insult various alien races with weaponry of any kind would increase Rodney's probable life span and Rodney had cut back with... this.

"I give very enthusiastic blow jobs." Rodney smiled cheerfully, kind of like he had when he'd asked John, years ago, to help him try out a personal shield the likes of which the Borg had never seen.

John had a moment of cognitive dissonance but he managed to say "Not interested, McKay," in a voice not too far from normal.

Rodney gave John a once over and actually snorted.

"Look, McKay—" John jerked around with one hand raised, finger pointing meaningfully.

"I'm a scientist, Colonel." Rodney cut him off swiftly. "I hypothesize and then I experiment to either prove or disprove that hypothesis."

John rolled his eyes because good lord was that so not the point.

Rodney leaned in close, looking smug. "I hypothesize that we'd have good sex. Great sex. Fantastic sex. You hypothesize, from what I gather due to your extremely lax verbal skills, that we wouldn't. Why don't you let me be the brilliant scientist I am and experiment?"

Rodney nodded to John's door just a few feet away. "If I'm wrong, and you don't get off hard enough to have visual irregularities then I promise to return the ring."

"The ring?" John's mouth was dry but he managed to only sound a little hoarse.

"Nothing gaudy, I swear." Rodney's hands reached out, managing to get John's vest half undone and a palm onto the t-shirt against his collarbone.

John's laughed a little shakily because the ring put this whole thing back into certifiable territory and Rodney was fucking leering at him. John should have moved. He should have backed away with his hands out defensively because Rodney was crossing very secure boundaries John had set up from day one and it was not acceptable. Not on any level.

But when Rodney kissed him, John opened his mouth. Those crooked lips were soft, but firmer than they looked, and Rodney tasted like the spiced tea the Fronvens made them drink before going back through the gate.

John leaned into the kiss, settling his hands on Rodney's hips in an awkward clutch. Rodney got John's vest all the way undone and then the jacket too, his left hand sliding up under John's t-shirt and his right taking hold of the back of John's neck. Rodney touched him like he had no intention of letting go.

John hadn't actually made out with someone in at least a year. He hadn't made out with anyone in a hallway in at least ten years. And he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed with such outright enthusiasm and forcefulness. It was... nice.

It was really fucking nice.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Elizabeth's voice rang out over the intercom.

John jerked away from Rodney, and tapped his radio. "Yeah?"

"There's something I want you to see in the gateroom." Apparently John had sounded just as wrecked as he felt because he could hear Elizabeth's smile.

"Be right there." John zipped his jacket and his vest back up.

Rodney looked downright pissed off and John managed an amused grin before running for his life.

**

The "thing" Elizabeth needed him to look at was some machine that had come out from the ceiling and after John had declared it a tentative non-threat, he'd had to call Rodney to come figure it out. Five hours later, John's shoulders were wound tighter than a jack-in-the-box and Rodney was busy saving the day, standing on a ladder next to John, constantly brushing his thigh against John's shoulder.

And two hours after that the Daedalus arrived ahead of schedule bringing with it personnel, supplies and one Colonel Caldwell. All of which meant that John didn't even have time to think about the fact that he'd almost groped Rodney McKay in a _hallway_.

And he kept trying not to think about it all the way until they got more tea from the Fronvens.

John had always been more of an afternoon runner than a morning runner. He preferred to work off the stress from his day but Ronon was both an afternoon runner and a morning runner and since John had maybe been driving the marines up a wall he thought he'd stick with Ronon for the week.

So he ran, and he had manly non-conversation with Ronon about weaponry and the new pretty guns the SGC had sent over on the Daedalus. Ronon also talked about the fact that McKay had been at the shooting range working with the new guns every other night that week but John ignored that and focused on the numbers he'd gotten from inventory.

Numbers were soothing.

They ran until Ronon finished his water bottle and John's legs were jell-o and then John took a shower, got into uniform, and headed for the Mess to start his day. Supplies from the Daedalus always meant that the breakfasts for the next week would be pretty good and there was enough coffee to go around, despite McKay.

Except there was no coffee when John got to the mess. There was the Fronven tea, which was about half as caffeinated as coffee, and tasted like gingerbread. It was better than water so John grabbed a cup along with his rehydrated eggs, bacon and toast.

It was early enough that the Mess wasn't crowded, plenty of tables empty and waiting, but Ronon had gotten there ahead of him and was sitting with Teyla, Radek, and Rodney. It would have been just downright rude, which John really wasn't, to sit anywhere else so John rolled his shoulders and headed over, taking the empty spot next to Ronon, across from Rodney. (It was either that or the empty spot across from Ronon and no one actually wanted to watch the guy eat.)

Rodney's plate was almost as full as Ronon's and he had two cups of the tea sitting in front of him. "It's an insult," Rodney was saying, fork waving energetically.

Ronon grunted in agreement, Radek made a face, and Teyla was smiling. John absolutely didn't need to know.

Rodney eyed him and John looked down firmly at his eggs. "Don't you think, Colonel?" Rodney asked.

"'Bout what?" John was clueless and generally acting like that was enough to get Rodney to leave him alone. Rodney was kind of easy like that.

"The tea." Rodney tapped his fork against the rim of the cup on his right. "They had the nerve, the _idiocy_ , to forgo coffee and prepare this. Carson's idea, I'm sure of it."

"I like the tea," John replied lazily, reaching for his cup and taking a sip. It was stupid instinct, carved out from years of pushing Rodney's buttons and he didn't think about it until the tea was on his tongue and he looked up to see Rodney smirking.

John almost choked and as it was his eyes watered as he swallowed because there he was looking at Rodney's mouth and remembering how it tasted, how it felt and Rodney's fingers against his skin.

"You would," Rodney said with derision but there was this glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes and he did finish the second cup of tea, licking his lips.

Teyla tried to placate McKay by listing the healing properties of the tea and pointing out that the energetic feeling it provided was similar to the coffee he so coveted. Ronon just grunted again and attacked his bacon with gusto.

John stared forlornly at his toast and wondered if he'd lost his mind at some point. Because, yes, there'd been kissing in the hallway but it didn't mean anything and he really had no plans on being anyone's trophy wife, particularly not McKay's. But then, he was also faced with the prospect of a lifetime of getting hard every time he had gingerbread so his options were just kind of sucking.

"Enjoy your tea, Colonel," Rodney said cheerfully as he picked up his empty tray. Radek stood with him, shrugging at John as he went and then Ronon was trying to unsuccessfully flirt with Teyla while his mouth was full.

John wished he'd gotten water instead, didn't touch his bacon, and took a cold shower before he went on duty.

The problem with Rodney McKay was that once he got an idea he didn't let it go until he was either proven completely, horribly, inarguably wrong, or until he was right, "completely, absolutely, inevitably right and you're all morons for having doubted me" and then he moved onto his next brilliant insight. There wasn't a middle option with McKay, outside of avoidance and generally avoidance made Rodney even more determined.

The point being that John was kind of screwed. But John had also spent the last four years navigating the McKay minefield so he figured that his best course of action was to try to make Rodney sorry he ever thought marriage was a good idea. John Sheppard could annoy Rodney more than any other man alive. It was a talent John was rather proud of.

John insisted on watching more taped football games during the bi-monthly team nights, and Teyla had developed a fondness for the Hail Mary tape so John put that one into the rotation again. He also hand-selected movies guaranteed to aggravate Rodney but that didn't work out quite as well because even he wanted to fast forward straight to the Battle of Naboo. Ronon, against all odds, actually liked Jar Jar and growled every time John reached for the remote so John spent that movie night sharing pained looks with Rodney instead of getting to look smug and triumphant after Rodney stormed out. John thought maybe he was losing his touch.

Missions went marginally better because Rodney was still resentful whenever they didn't take a puddlejumper and there was no flirting and no talk of marriage at all. However, Rodney was right in that losing their lives was a possibility- especially since Rodney's survival instincts had never seen fit to include not insulting the people with big spears- and John had to limp to the infirmary twice in a row.

"You know, leaving everything up to and including the control of my groundbreaking copyrights to you isn't going to do a damn bit of good if you insist on nearly getting yourself killed."

Rodney had sprained his wrist when John had pushed him to ground to avoid the very sharp object aimed at their heads and now he was waiting for a brace while John got the gash on his back stitched up.

"Good." John ached everywhere and he knew he had a bruise the size of Rodney's laptop forming on his thigh.

"You don't think the arrows were poison-tipped do you?" Rodney ignored John in favor of badgering Carson.

Carson made a noise that John knew accompanied an eye roll of some kind and said "No, Rodney," with barely concealed impatience.

John turned his head to look at Rodney who was inspecting the small gash on his right forearm and frowning. _Figures,_ John thought.

Carson pulled another stitch through and John hissed despite the local anesthetic. John really hated spears.

"Hey, you're being careful right?" Rodney said accusingly.

Carson's hands stilled on John's back and he sounded at his wit's end when he snapped back "Of course, Rodney."

John put his head face down on the bed because he didn't want McKay to see him smiling.

"Good." Rodney actually sniffed, like he'd been insulted or something and then he said, "Because I'm going to spend the rest of my life looking at that back and I don't want it scarred up and ugly just because you weren't careful with your medieval torture instruments."

Carson jerked the thread too hard and exclaimed "What?" just as John cursed and threw the ace bandage near his hand at Rodney's head. It bounced off Rodney's forehead and landed harmlessly in Rodney's lap.

"Rest of your life?" Carson sputtered, completely flustered.

"We're getting married." Rodney pointedly put the ace bandage down on the bed next to him.

"McKay," John said warningly, because this was _so_ not the time and place and if John didn't have a needle and thread in his back then he probably would have tried to throw something larger and sharp in Rodney's direction.

Carson coughed loudly and pressed a hand down on John's back, forcing John to lower his shoulders back down. "Now, Colonel, I'm almost done." He patted John's shoulders in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture but just made it all that much harder for John to relax the muscles in his back.

"It's mostly a legal arrangement," Rodney said. A nurse finally came over with the wrist brace and strapped it onto Rodney while he complained loudly.

Carson was smothering a snicker and John ground his teeth, just waiting for the snip of the scissors. Carson finished up and told him to come back in two days so a doctor could check the wound. He handed John his shirt and said with a shit-eating grin, "Congratulations."

John took the shirt roughly while Rodney stood up and said "Thank you," cheerfully.

John didn't say thank you and he didn't smile. He didn't even look at either of them before he walked out of the infirmary, shirt in hand still, because if he had stayed one second longer there was going to be violence and then John would have to get the stitches fixed.

He was halfway to the transporter when Rodney came up behind him. "Colonel!"

"We are _not_ getting married," John stepped past the doors and stabbed the dot nearest his room on the display.

Rodney barely got through the doors before they closed. "Look, John—"

"You're lucky I don't kick your ass, McKay." The doors opened and John stalked out, ignoring the looks he got from the people in the hall. It was possible that he should have put his shirt _on_ before he left the infirmary.

"Okay, okay." Rodney jogged after him, following into step beside John. "I should probably have waited for you to succumb to my charms before I told Carson. But it's _Carson_."

"Your charms?" John sputtered. His door slid open before them and John walked right in, throwing his shirt onto the bed. "What charms, Rodney? You're arrogant, insensitive, and fucking insane."

Rodney followed him in and then folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, well, that was nice. I'm not thanking you now."

"Thank me for what?" John pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. "Letting you out me to Carson while I was incapable of leaving the room?"

There was a momentary pause and then Rodney said, in a softer voice, "Saving my life."

John looked up sharply, surprised, and Rodney actually looked genuinely put out. It was really unfair that Rodney could switch gears like that before John had even gotten out a decent rant.

"With the spears and the running. It was nice of you," Rodney's mouth was tight and his eyes just shy of vulnerable.

John crinkled his eyebrows and wondered how the hell this was even happening. How it was that suddenly he was the one being the asshole? "Wait, what?"

Rodney shrugged. "Now granted, it's kind of expected considering the possibility of a wedding in our near future but I appreciate the fact that you still consider my life more valuable than your share of my will."

John rubbed at his face, suddenly terribly tired. "I'm not even in your will, Rodney." His back ached, his thigh throbbed, and his head felt like it might explode at some point in the near future.

Rodney snorted. "Colonel, you've been in my will for over a year now." Rodney walked forward, his body language back to arrogant and rushed.

John blinked. "Are you—"

"Now let me thank you," Rodney said brightly, right before he pressed into John's personal space and kissed him.

John was tired, frustrated, completely aggravated, and he hurt everywhere but Rodney's mouth was firm and his fingers warm against the cool skin of John's stomach. John opened his mouth under Rodney's and leaned into the touch because it was just so much better than anything else he was feeling.

"You're being such an asshole," John muttered, sliding a hand up Rodney's neck and pulling him closer.

"Right, well, that's not surprising." Rodney clenched at John's sides reflexively, whining high in his throat when John kissed him back, tongue sliding easily into Rodney's mouth.

John grunted in agreement, not caring enough to pull back and speak because telling Rodney wouldn't change anything. Rodney was just ... Rodney. And John had learned, at some point, to mostly just roll with it.

Rodney really was a good kisser, which probably meant his boasting about everything else wasn't a total lie. Not that John had that kind of energy right now, but it seemed like a good thing to file away for later. Rodney smelled like sweat and dirt, but John knew he smelled like both those things with a little blood and antiseptic thrown in, so he didn't particularly care.

Rodney tasted bitter, like powerbars and coffee but his tongue was just rough enough and his fingers were sliding across John's bare stomach, tracing the line of his waistband. John thought, _maybe this isn't a bad idea_ and eased his knee between Rodney's legs.

Rodney grunted, loud and surprised and pulled back enough to say "Christ," against John's lips before pressing back in. His hands flexed out, grabbing forcefully and the left one just skimmed the base of the cut on John's back.

"Fuck," John hissed, jerking back because it fucking hurt and worked better than a cold shower to kill his libido.

"Shit, sorry, sorry." Rodney winced and made comic expressions of frustration and worry.

John almost laughed. Would have laughed actually if Rodney's mouth didn't look like that. John blinked and thought _What the hell am I doing?_

Rodney must have seen something in his face because his mouth twisted flat and he sighed. "I killed the moment, didn't I?"

"Uh, yeah." John winced and felt a little guilty. He stepped a little further back and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "So, uh, you're welcome?"

Rodney's face fell and he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, very funny. Fine. I'll leave and you can nurse your little heterosexual panic. But don't think I'm letting this go."

Yeah, John pretty much guessed that.

"Because you're just postponing the inevitable." Rodney pointed at him. "And once you've realized that I'm brilliant and you should just trust me about this? Well, you'll be damn sorry you waited so long to get laid." Rodney turned around and walked jerkily out of the room, the doors shutting swiftly behind him.

John sighed and crawled onto his bed, dropping down onto his stomach. He was starting to think that maybe McKay was making him lose his mind. Because, well, it seemed entirely possible that Rodney actually was right.

As inadvisable as avoidance was, John figured he should at least try it. He could be subtle when he wanted to be so he managed to finish his meals just as Rodney was arriving and sit between Teyla and Elizabeth at all of the meetings. He smiled, he joked, he played the charming Colonel and Rodney just scowled and fumed and John suspected there were assassination plans on Rodney's laptop instead of notes.

After a week he got the stitches out and had to endure the entire process lying face down while Carson tugged and asked detailed questions about the wedding. It was amazing how that stoked John's ire again.

John was put back on active duty for off-world missions again and this time there were no spears. There weren't actually people at all, but ruins with interesting energy signatures and an overnight stay. Rodney had the gall to ask Teyla about Athosian marriage rituals but John felt a flare of satisfaction when Telya embarked on a lengthy description of the courting rituals that were held first.

"Everyone dates first, McKay." John pointed out, smirking.

Teyla arched an eyebrow, all calm amusement so clearly Rodney had told her too and Ronon just snorted, not bothering to tear his mouth away from his powerbar.

Rodney glared at John from across the campfire and Teyla seemed to take pity on him, or side with him because she pointed out that a second marriage didn't always adhere to the courting rituals and that oftentimes it was an arrangement of convenience and friendship as opposed to love.

John didn't consider marriage of any sort to be _convenient_ (it looked like a hell of a lot of work) but Rodney lit into a discussion of new artifact he'd found by the south pier the other day and that was that for the night.

They didn't find a ZPM but they did find a pretty awesome weapon that was kind of like a wraith stunner and John was grinning by the time they got back to Atlantis.

"Good job, Rodney." He clapped Rodney on the back and headed for the armory to return his P-90.

Rodney was just as pleased because Zelenka had apparently spent his spare time that summer trying to develop their own stun weapon and the one they found was probably going to help that little project right along.

Rodney set his P-90 down, grinned happily, patted Sheppard _on the ass_ and walked out with a "Thank you!"

John opened and closed his mouth like a fish and didn't say anything.

Demonstrating the Ancient Stunner on a few Athosian livestock was a blast and John managed to stay outside of Rodney's arms' reach the entire time. His back did end up scarring just a little, a pencil thin white line that went along with all the other small signs he had that life in the Pegasus Galaxy was a little rough. He didn't mind that much because it wasn't like he could see it. But John did kind of want to see Rodney's reaction, because he'd bet money that Carson would have gotten an earful.

**

They had a few setbacks that next week and two of the scientists got taken by the Wraith. John spent two days being quietly angry and on edge with everyone. He couldn't protect all of his people every time they stepped through the gate but it still got to him. It still made him feel like a failure.

Rodney and Zelenka threw themselves into their work, which is how they always handled things, but Zelenka knew when to stop and Rodney never had. John took the night watch and when he headed back to his room in the early morning he passed by Rodney's lab out of habit.

Rodney was there, bent over his laptop, with all the lights on and a mug resting at his elbow. John leaned against the doorway and watched him, the hunched line of his back, and the tense set of his shoulders.

John licked his lips and took a breath. "It can wait til tomorrow, Rodney."

Rodney jumped in his chair, startled and his head whipped around. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He looked annoyed but the shadows under his eyes were purple.

"A little," John admitted with a nod. He shifted his weight back off the doorway but kept his arms crossed over his chest as he walked over to Rodney.

Rodney looked appeased by that and turned back to his laptop. "Shouldn't you be in the middle of beauty sleep right now?" His fingers flew over the keyboard, punching in a series of equations that looked almost angry to John.

"I was just on my way. You could use some yourself." He rested his hip against Rodney's lab table.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I see that we've hit the time of night when you actually believe you're funny."

It was funny how sometimes the bitchier Rodney got the less John minded. "Come on, McKay. Close up shop. You'll do better after a few hours of sleep and you know it."

He could see Rodney gearing up for a fight, getting ready to loose a long string of insults about John's hair and his swagger and his brain. John reached and squeezed Rodney's shoulder, gentle but firm and watched as Rodney's shoulders sagged and the fight slipped out of him just that quick.

"Come on," John said.

Rodney saved his document and closed the laptop with a deep, exhausted sigh.

"It gets easier." John said it even though they both knew that it didn't get easier so much as get replaced by something new to worry about. Burden of leadership, John had figured out but Rodney still took it all a little harder.

"I really, really want to beat them." Rodney clenched a fist as he stood.

"Yeah," John nodded. He still had a hand on Rodney's shoulder but he didn't want to move it so he just squeezed again and spread his hand, feeling the hard, firm skin under it.

Rodney paused, turning his head to look at John's hand and the look in his eyes eased into something else. Rodney smiled. "There are other things I want," he said, trying to be casual.

John tried not to smile because, God, Rodney had never been able to pull that off. "Yeah?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

Rodney's smile got wider, his eyes practically lighting up and he turned in to John who really had been standing too close. "Yeah," Rodney nodded.

It was stupid, a bad idea, and Rodney wasn't going to lay off if John kept doing shit like this. Not that it stopped John, but it's something he thought before he kissed Rodney.

It wasn't fast or fierce the way it had been, just a lazy movement of warm mouths breathing together. He curled both hands on Rodney's neck; his left cupping Rodney's jaw, palm pressed against the steady beat of the carotid artery.

John wanted to slide his hands down Rodney's skin and remind him that they weren't alone in this. He wanted to slip into Rodney's personal space just to make Rodney relax against him.

Mostly what he wanted was to feel Rodney's smile against his own and remember that this wouldn't break them.

Rodney wrapped one hand around John's wrist and just held it there, fingers pressed to the pulse. John smiled into the kiss because it was just like Rodney to take the same thought and make it his own.

It was startlingly passive-especially considering the way Rodney had been the last few weeks—the rhythmic brush of his thumb against John's outer wrist the only real motion he made. John took it for what it was, a sign of how bone-deep tired Rodney must have been. John felt it too, like it was transferring through the sleep-slow push of Rodney's tongue.

"I really hate that I need sleep this bad," Rodney whispered, only pulling back far enough to speak, his breath flowing straight into John's mouth.

"Yeah, but you really do." John pushed forward, brushed his lips over Rodney's and then he pulled back. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"That's an offer, right? That's totally an offer." It didn't have Rodney's usual fervor to it. Rodney turned back and grabbed his laptop.

"Nope," John said but he reached out and took the laptop away, slipping it under his arm. "But I'll tuck you in."

The walk back to the living quarters was always longer when the halls were empty and half dark. John thought Rodney's door open before they quite got there and Rodney made a noise when he stepped through. John followed him in, setting the laptop down on the nearest table.

Rodney pulled off his jacket, tossing carelessly into a corner, and then actually face-planted onto the bed. John snorted and walked over, grabbing one of Rodney's shoes and pulling it off. "Shirt, McKay," he said.

"I sleep with my shirt on," he grumbled while John dealt with the other shoe. Rodney rolled over to unbutton his pants and kick them off into a pile at John's feet. John smiled and pointed to the pillow.

Rodney smiled, pleased amusement in his eyes, and crawled up his bed and under the covers. John walked around to the head of the bed and reached over, plucking the radio out of Rodney's ear.

"'Night, Rodney." He set the radio down on the table by Rodney's head.

"Just..." Rodney grabbed John's hand and pulled it down over his waist. "Stay, okay."

John knew he shouldn't but Rodney didn't tend to really ask him for much and this was something he could give easily. "'Kay," he said quietly, pulling his hand away so he could get his jacket, shirt, and shoes off. He felt ridiculous for just one moment, with his fingers on his button fly, but the moment passed and John stepped out of his pants and got into the bed.

He almost didn't hear Rodney's "Thank you," and he wasn't sure he was supposed to. Rodney grabbed his hand back. John rested it against the heat of Rodney's belly and he just let himself be pulled in.

"Don't think I'm compromising my virtue," he whispered into Rodney's ear.

"You've already compromised it with half the Pegasus Galaxy, so it's a little late for that." Rodney yawned loudly and scooted down, settling back against John.

"Two alien priestesses and you're just never going to let it go," John muttered but Rodney didn't reply, his breathing already slow and even. John rolled his shoulders, just to get comfortable, and he laid his head down behind Rodney, nose against the nape of Rodney's neck. He thought the lights off, tucked his chest tight against Rodney's back and closed his eyes.

**

John considered possibly making out in bed that next morning but Rodney was a vicious man before his first four cups of coffee and he spent the ten minutes where they shaved and brushed their teeth (Rodney actually had spare toothbrushes which John thought had more to do with the whole hypochondriac thing than any hope of getting laid) complaining bitterly about the state of his back and how very much he missed his orthopedic mattress.

John knew that it'd been three years since Rodney had even slept on that mattress and mostly ignored Rodney's griping and dug around for Rodney's secret stash of hair gel. It was in a secret compartment under the sink and it smelled like antiseptic but it worked. Rodney was a little put out that the secret compartment had actually opened itself for John but they were running late so mostly he just told his bathroom that it had better like him best after the marriage and John totally had to argue the point that there was no way he was moving in there, even if they got married, which they weren't going to do.

John was just really glad there was coffee in Elizabeth's office and that he got a cup before Rodney took over the entire pot.

The mission they went on that day was to a planet where the people spoke a variation of Ancient. (That happened three or four times a year but usually it happened to Lorne so John didn't notice.) They had to take a linguist along and there were a few hours of starts and stops before they figured out that "we only trade with members of our tribe but we'll be happy to trade with you" actually meant "we'd like you to marry our Chieftain's daughter."

The confirmed bachelor concept worked about as well on the Vedons as it had on Rodney and the situation got ugly very quickly. (In John's defense it only really got ugly when the Vedons offered up the Chieftain's youngest son to wed with Teyla and Ronon joined McKay in the shouting and threatening.)

John thought it was a little frustrating that, despite the whole very common enemy thing, it was damn hard to make and keep friends in the Pegasus Galaxy.

The debriefing went down with Elizabeth asking what had happened (because she'd really been excited about salty chocolate dish the Vedons had been offering) and Rodney explaining, in very precise terms, that the crazy painted people had tried to marry off his fiancé.

John really didn't handle that all that well.

Especially the part where Elizabeth started laughing and Ronon actually _seconded_ Rodney's assessment of the situation. Eventually Teyla and John managed to cobble together a legitimate recap of events and Elizabeth kept wiping at her eyes discreetly.

John didn't schedule another mission for a week. He ate with Teyla and Elizabeth at the Mess and he made Lorne run with him. And when Rodney had the nerve to mention weddings the next time they were stuck in the puddlejumper together John went right back to his original "We're not even dating, McKay!" response and, for a few days, that was that.


	2. Chapter 2

John's great mistake was that he let his guard down. Two whole weeks of not getting hit on, ogled, or propositioned and he had started to think Rodney had regained sanity. He didn't even see the date coming.

He went for his nightly run with Ronon and then hobbled back to his quarters trying to decide if being nearly forty and wanting to die was a sign that he should push himself harder or that he should just give in to the inevitable. Of course, with Rodney's predictions of doom still burned into his brain, he was definitely leaning towards the former.

He was wiping his face and neck down with a towel and thinking intently about a nice hot shower when he walked through the door to his room, so it took his brain a few seconds to catch up with his eyes.

There was a dining table John didn't own sitting square in the middle of the room. There were candles, decent looking food on fine china-esque plates, and Rodney McKay sitting at one end of the table trying to uncork a bottle of wine.

The doors slid shut behind John and he was stuck, sweaty and sore and frozen in place. "Um," he said.

"You really seemed preoccupied with the dating thing." Rodney got the cork out finally and poured the red wine into one glass. "So I thought I would appease you and woo you over. Don't expect flowers though, because there's no telling what kind of allergens I could be exposed to and I'm not the kind of guy that puts out when I'm going into shock."

John lowered the towel away from the back of his neck and blinked, hoping against hope that the candles weren't pink. "I."

Rodney poured the wine into the other glass and then really looked at John, wrinkling his nose. "The food's going to get cold if you don't get into the shower right now. And I am not eating across from you when you smell like that."

John swallowed the hysterical giggle that was threatening to come out and instead croaked, "Rodney."

"Are you deaf?" Rodney gestured rather pointedly at the bathroom door. "Shower. Now. I only deal with sweat when I'm running for my exceedingly invaluable life or when there's sex involved. And you're being an incredible prude about the whole sex thing so. Go. Shower."

John decided that maybe if he did actually take a shower and just stayed in there then Rodney would go away and he'd never be faced with candlelight dinners on magically appearing tables again. It was really the only thing he had so he very calmly grabbed a pair of track pants and walked into his bathroom.

He had ten minutes of blissful silence and soap before the bathroom door was jerked open. Rodney was a blurry image through the stained glass shower walls but John knew that posture anyway; the arms crossed over his chest and the exaggerated tilt of the chin. "Your hair can't possibly be that high maintenance!" Rodney shouted over the water.

"Hey!" John objected, because it so wasn't his fault that Rodney had a receding hair line. There was really no reason for the barely concealed jealousy.

And then Rodney opened the shower door. "Look. I had to trade a lot of very useful favors to get the wine, the candles, and the steak. Which I got because you seem like the kind of guy who would handle things a little better if your masculinity was reinforced through vicious consumption of red meat. Now let's go."

There were about fifteen very rude things John could have said. But he was naked, the fresh air was cold, and he could actually smell the steak despite the shampoo. Also, Rodney didn't mention the naked thing so John felt a little generous. He thought the water off and held out his hand. "Towel," he said firmly.

Rodney rolled his eyes, grabbed the towel off the shelf, threw it at John and stalked out of the bathroom. John dried off, pulled on the track pants and sincerely wished he'd remembered to grab a pair of boxers too.

The candles were still there but so was the steak. And the wine. Wine wasn't really John's drink of choice but it really seemed like his best option for getting through this without breaking something.

"So," he said after the first bite of --Jesus--real, honest-to-God good fucking steak.

"This is the small talk part isn't it?" Rodney sighed, like John was being demanding, and then he launched into a rant about his day without even breathing in. Turned out that Kavanagh had tried to disprove one of Rodney's Great Theories on wormhole technology and that Simpson and Miko had declared themselves celibate in response to something that one of the biologists said about basic biological urges.

John got halfway through the steak and well into a second glass of wine before he even had to grunt. Also, the candle on Rodney's side of the table flickered out on all its own which made John a little calmer. Well, the _wine_ probably made him calmer but the lack of candlelight meant Rodney's mouth _wasn't_ well lit and that _did_ make John significantly less tense.

"And then I had to keep that one physicist with the name that's mostly vowels and not even worth trying to learn to pronounce- not that I would anyhow, because he is _not_ staying- from blowing the city up. Again." Rodney took a bite of potato and looked at John expectantly.

John swallowed quickly and licked his lips. "What?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Your day. You grunted at marines, smiled at Elizabeth, and got beaten down by Ronon? Or what? Come on now, John, I'm doing this whole small talk date thing at your apparent insistence so you'd better start playing along."

John didn't actually recall saying Rodney could call him by his first name, but then he hadn't agreed to any of this so it seemed a little picky to start drawing lines now.

"Not that I actually care, to be honest," Rodney admitted, waving a piece of steak around on his fork. "As long as you didn't get shot, then it really doesn't matter. But I know you're actually capable of speech so it wouldn't kill you to say _something._ "

"The steak's good," John offered, just to be difficult.

Rodney frowned for a split second before conceding, "Well, yes."

"And you're totally not getting laid tonight, if that's what you're thinking." John finished off his second glass of wine.

Rodney didn't actually look phased. "I just knew you were going to be difficult. You wanted to date so I expected you would hold to some antiquated belief in waiting an appropriate number of social interactions before actually interacting."

Which was, well, a little insulting. John was totally interactive when his date wasn't being an asshole. "I'll have you know that—"

"Can we make out, though?" Rodney cut him off.

"I—" John furrowed his eyebrows because, seriously, what the hell?

"Excellent." Rodney clapped his hands together and got up quickly from his seat. The table wasn't exactly large and Rodney was at his side in a second, pulling the fork right out of John's hand. "You're done, right?" Rodney asked, but he was jerking John out of the chair before he even opened his mouth.

John stared at the rest of the steak forlornly as he was bodily dragged away from the table. He really needed to invest in a couch or something because the only place he really had to sit was his bed. They didn't actually get to the bed before Rodney's mouth was on his. It tasted like steak and wine, of course, just like John's. Rodney slid his hands up John's neck, thumbs drawing little circles at the base of his jaw.

John didn't kiss back at first because he was still kind of reeling and he also couldn't believe Rodney wasn't going to go straight for his bare chest. It was weirdly sweet, which just seemed so unlike Rodney, who was all bluster and speed and impatience.

Rodney pulled back, for just a moment, said "A little participation please, Colonel," before diving back in and pushing John down on the bed.

John blamed the wine. And the steak, a little. Mostly the wine though, because he felt almost competitive, his brain and mouth kicking into gear at the same time. He got his hands under Rodney's shirt and his tongue against Rodney's and he just kind of let go.

He was emphatically not going to put out, but the steak deserved a show of appreciation.

Plus, really, Rodney wasn't half bad at this. Not as fantastic as he claimed to be but really not that bad.

One of Rodney's hands slipped up John's neck, fingers warm against the still slightly wet hair. John thought, _jealous_ but grunted at the skim of nails against his scalp. Rodney settled down on him, weight pressing in at all the right places, hard and heavy. Not like a girl at all. Which was, surprisingly, not actually a turn-off.

John grunted and pulled back to press his teeth against Rodney's jaw. Rodney had shaved sometime in the afternoon because his cheeks were smooth but he'd missed a place just under his chin. John kissed the stubble, mouth sliding against the grain.

"Okay, it's entirely possible that you got to be the James T. Kirk of the Pegasus Galaxy for a reason." Rodney's voice was strained with lack of air and then his mouth was back on John's and despite the name calling John felt a little swell of pride.

He spread his legs a little, out of instinct, and so didn't regret it when Rodney pressed down hard, with a hitching gasp. John thought _huh_ and rocked up into it. Because, really, why not?

Rodney pushed himself up onto his elbows and said, "So, about the not putting out thing?" He had red, swollen lips, his pupils were huge, and he was already tugging his shirt out of his pants.

"Oh, shut up, Rodney." John said and helped him with the shirt.

They weren't getting any younger.

John actually hadn't ever done more than the occasional blow job with another guy. But Rodney didn't complain and his skin tasted better than John ever thought it would. He probably wasn't all that great but Rodney came in a rush of words, spoken too fast and soft for John to hear over the rush of blood in his ears.

John swallowed, mostly because he didn't want to clean it off his carpet later and the sink was just too far. Rodney kissed him hard, breaking up the taste, and then tongued his way straight down John's body, muttering all the while "I told you, I told you so."

It was juvenile and totally unnecessary but it made Rodney's tongue twist invitingly over him and John decided he could complain later. Rodney _was_ good at this, wide mouth being a lot more useful than John had given it proper credit for. The speed at which he talked, the vibrations in his throat, had John clenching at the bed sheets and trying not to thrust too deeply.

And when he came, John's head dropped back onto his pillow and he tried to find his breath again, tried to think of something to say that wasn't, _You're a genius._

What he did manage to get out was "Jesus, McKay," before Rodney crawled back up, and kissed him, bitter-mouthed and lazy.

"Yes, yes," Rodney bit at John's lower lip. "You should just—"

"Sleep?" John smiled into Rodney's mouth and waited for the indignant response.

But Rodney considered it, and slumped down on his side, leg curved over John's and head hogging the pillow. "Yeah, okay."

**

Rodney had tucked an overnight bag away over by the bathroom, which was presumptuous as all hell, but so very Rodney that John didn't even blink. Rodney set up shop on one side of John's sink, scowling darkly at his image in the mirror. John figured it was the pre-coffee kind of scowl because it wasn't like John hadn't gotten him off first, but he decided it was in his best interest not to ask.

He went and grabbed a towel and when he came back, Rodney was rummaging through John's medicine cabinet. John made a face at him and Rodney rolled his eyes. "Please it's not like I haven't seen aftershave before."

Which was true. And John had made Rodney's bathroom show him its wares without even having to actually pull anything open so he supposed it was fair. John rubbed at his face tiredly and snatched his toothpaste back from Rodney's hand. "Mine," he said with a little smile.

"Community property." Rodney stuck his toothbrush in his mouth and started to clean intently.

"Not married." John capped the toothpaste and ran his paste-covered brush under the faucet.

"Semantics." Rodney started in on the other side of his crooked mouth.

John watched his reflection intently. "Reality," he said, before he began to brush his teeth.

Rodney spit and then washed his brush off and rinsed his mouth out. "It is only a matter of time, if last night is any indication. I really don't know why you're being so difficult about this."

Even if John had wanted to marry Rodney from the beginning, he still would have been difficult about it. It was his civic duty to make sure Rodney's ego remained at a manageable size.

Rodney kicked his boxers off and opened up the shower door.

"Hey," John said around a mouth full of paste, because he was going to shower. He even had a towel all ready.

Rodney stepped into the shower and water cascaded down without hesitation, like always. "The perks far outweigh the very few downsides!" he shouted over the water. Rodney had left the door open, getting water all over the floor.

John spit and rinsed quickly, and walked over to close the door, muttering "Damn it, Rodney," when he noticed. Rodney had a satisfied smile, his eyes were clenched shut, and he was jacking himself off. Slowly.

John blinked.

"Don't you think so?" Rodney shouted this too, probably because he thought John was still by the sink.

There was a moment where John actually considered his options but the moment passed quickly. John got his own boxers off in record time and stepped in front of Rodney, blocking the water. Rodney's eyes flew open and he smiled hesitantly at John.

"You're insufferable," John said.

"Hey!" Rodney objected but John already had his hand over Rodney's, going along with the easy rhythm.

"Shut up," John whispered.

"You're hogging the water," Rodney grumbled, just before he gasped. John smiled, stepping close so that their hands were caught between their stomachs. He moved his thumb, at the last second, brushing over, and Rodney braced his free hand against the wall and his forehead against John's shoulders.

"Oh, the perks are nice," Rodney grunted.

John laughed, full and loud.

**

"So, we've done the dating thing—"

John clipped the P-90 to his vest. "One date isn't really 'dating', Rodney."

Rodney strapped his 9mm into his thigh holster and continued blithely, ignoring John. "And I think I've proven my theory about the sex."

John hummed in response as he walked out of the armory.

"So, I think two months to plan a wedding is more than enough time." Rodney pushed past him.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to have actually say something because this was just... well it was still insane.

"Look, marriage _isn't_ just a business arrangement, Rodney, I'm sorry." John didn't believe that he, of all people, had to be the one to point this out. "You get married to someone if you can't stand to be away from them. If you're willing to hold their hair back while they throw up after an all-nighter. You know, it's about wanting to spend the rest of your _entire life_ with someone, not about protecting your intellectual property."

Rodney thought about it for a minute, as they walked towards the gateroom. And then he turned to John and said, "Oh my God. You're turning forty and you _still_ have commitment issues?"

John came to a dead stop in the hallway and stared at Rodney. "Who said anything about forty?"

**

The problem was that perhaps John was having a harder time with the whole "forty" thing than he'd thought. Once Rodney had actually said it, had given voice to idea that in three weeks would be a reality, John had kind of panicked. Because, Jesus, he was going to be forty years old.

John was the kind of guy –the kind of soldier really- who'd never thought about middle age because he never really thought he'd get there.

John spent the entire mission in shock. He was completely keyed onto all of the tactical issues, looking for any danger, anything suspicious, all of that. But when he tried to write up his report he couldn't remember, for the life of him, if there'd even been trade negotiations. What he remembered was the smug smile plastered on Rodney's face the entire day and the sound of "forty" on his tongue.

It was entirely possible that John was panicking a little.

The best way, he found, to make the panic subside was to annoy McKay. It was therapeutic. John spent the next two and half weeks going out of his way to shut Rodney up on missions, side with _everyone_ against him, and make the Ancient coffee maker in the labs refuse to work.

Rodney's response was to belittle John's intelligence at every turn, call him Captain Kirk as often as he could get away with, and put John's favorite jumper out for repairs. Also, he cornered John at least twice a week to make out, blow each other, that kind of thing. Rodney's sex drive was apparently not the least bit swayed by his aggravation. For John it had a lot more to do with keeping Rodney from talking and avoiding the fact that he was really warming up to this whole thing.

The day before John's fifth decade of life began, he found himself standing in front of the mirror, trying to decide if his black uniform shirt was actually getting too tight. Rodney was eating a powerbar and scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel and generally just ignoring John so John didn't think about taking a little extra time to study his stomach.

"What are you doing?" Rodney asked, mouth still full and towel still draped over his forehead.

"Nothing." John glared at his hair in the mirror and hoped that Rodney would think he was despairing over his dozen or so cowlicks.

"You were checking yourself out," Rodney said, with a horrified kind of awe. "I knew you were vain but—"

"It has nothing to do with vanity, Rodney. Okay? Jesus." John grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. "Let's go. We don't want to be late."

Rodney was staring at him with wider-than-normal eyes and a mouth that hadn't been able to choose between gaping or grinning. He would have looked comic if John didn't know something evil was about to be said. "You're what, exactly? Worried about getting fat? With your metabolism? I mean, granted, metabolisms do slow with age but...."

John glared at him.

"Is this about your birthday?" Rodney walked over and poked him hard in the center of his chest.

"Shut. Up." John hissed.

Rodney actually snorted. "It is. You're freaking out about a birthday. Though I understand. With your penchant for suicide missions I can see how actually _living_ to any kind of ripe old age might be a little alarming."

Rodney was totally laughing on the inside, John just knew it.

"Just wait until you turn forty and see how you handle it." John decided against saying anything about Rodney's already thinning hair because that seemed like just asking for trouble from too many angles.

"I have well over a year before that happens," Rodney waved the thought away. "Besides, my vanity isn't my only source of happiness."

"What does _that_ mean?" John arched both his eyebrows.

Rodney made a face and then sighed as if he was being imposed upon. "Can't we just move past the midlife crisis and back over to the fantastic sex?"

John snorted. "Not a chance, McKay."

Instead, John let Teyla beat the crap out of him at sticks and then he went running with Ronon. He had firmly decided on fighting the inevitability of age through hard work, sweat, and lots of pain.

John woke up on his fortieth birthday with a crick in his back, bruises all over his thighs, and a headache. He got aspirin, a heating pad, and an exasperated lecture on overdoing it from Carson and decided that he was going to take the day off.

He figured that the chances of Rodney letting him live out the day in blessed silence were slim to none but he decided to try anyway. He got back from the infirmary and went straight to bed.

He got another four solid hours of sleep before Rodney came in without knocking.

"You are a disappointment." Rodney pulled the covers down to John's feet.

"I'm sleeping." John kept his eyes closed.

"It's eleven o'clock in the morning." The light turned on slowly.

"How many years of school did you have to take to figure that out?" John burrowed his face into his pillow.

"Oh, for–" Rodney huffed and walked around to the head of the bed. "John—why do you have a heating pad strapped to your back with an ace bandage?"

John turned his head a little and opened one eye to glare at Rodney. Rodney waited impatiently. John sighed and turned his face back into the pillow. "I overdid it yesterday." John's voice was muffled but he was sure that Rodney would figure it out.

"Hunh," Rodney said. John felt the cool tips of his fingers skate along the tops of shoulder blades. "That's what happens when you try to act like you're twenty still."

"Oh, just—" John was absolutely going to tell him to shut up, but then Rodney pushed John's head back down and climbed onto the bed. He straddled John, a knee on either side of John's hips, and then dug his fingers mercifully into the tense muscles of John's back. So John groaned instead.

Rodney worked silently, which was fucking amazing, and he started at the base of John's spine, only pausing to unwrap and dispose of the heating pad when he got to it. His fingers were broad and strong, skillfully teasing out the knots all over John's back as if he'd done it a dozen times before.

John didn't even try to move. Or talk. Or really think. He just focused on Rodney's fingertips, the slow glide of them over his skin. When they got to John's shoulders (which had been tight since before Antarctica) Rodney leaned more of his weight into it, spreading his palms flat and moving them in slow circles along the lines of the muscle.

"If I get arthritis because of this I will never let you live it down." Rodney pressed a kiss to a high notch of John's spine.

"Whatever." It was possible that in the last fifteen minutes John had fallen madly, irrevocably in love with Rodney McKay's hands but he would never admit to it.

Rodney worked up the John's spine to his neck and from there ran the blunt edges of his fingernails over and over John's scalp, making John's entire body actually tingle. John may have said something to that effect, but he couldn't be sure. Rodney did laugh though as he pulled his hands away.

"Now are you ready to face your fortieth birthday like a man?"

John rolled over underneath Rodney until he was on his back. He reached out and grabbed hold of Rodney's waistband, sliding a thumb over the top button. "That means just stay in bed and have sex all day, right?"

Rodney swallowed and stared at the circular movement of John's thumb. "That's definitely on the menu. After the, um, party. Well, and before it, too. Both work."

John's hand stilled, the button only half out of the hole. "Party."

Rodney smiled weakly. "Small social gathering to celebrate a momentous occasion."

"Rodney..." John took his hand back.

"Oh, please, you'll have a good time. There's cake and presents and I think Elizabeth said something about dancing. I don't know." Rodney leaned down and kissed John. "We've got hours. And cake, did I mention there'll be cake?"

John crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "I don't _want_ a party, Rodney."

"Well, that's not really an option at this point." Rodney was smiling hopefully.

"Really." John furrowed his brows.

Rodney leaned back, hands on his thighs and sighed like John was being a pain in the ass. "These people like you and the very least you could do is let them show you. You _could_ deign to at least show up to a party they spent weeks toiling over in your self-important honor."

John clenched his eyes shut and said in a slow, deliberate voice, "If I wanted a party I would have asked for one, McKay." He snapped his eyes open, suddenly." And while we're on the subject, how the hell did you even know when my birthday was?"

Rodney looked down at John like the answer to that question was so obvious it physically pained Rodney to answer it. "I read your file."

John arched an eyebrow. "You hacked into my file."

"I wouldn't call it hacking," Rodney backtracked. "And, honestly, how did you even figure out when Elizabeth's birthday was?"

John licked his lips and answered quietly. "I inherited all of Sumner's notes and files."

Rodney's smug look evaporated. "Oh. I. Oh."

"Okay, I'm going to go back to bed now." John pushed at Rodney, reaching around to get at his blankets.

Rodney's brow furrowed, his eyes going glassy and strangely vulnerable. "Yes, well, that's fine. But if you don't show up in the Mess Hall by seven, then I will find new and surprising ways to make you hate your life." Rodney climbed off the bed.

"I don't doubt it," John muttered, pulling his covers up over his shoulders.

"They went to a lot of effort for this, John. They're your friends. Stop being an ass about it and just come," Rodney said.

John turned to burrow his head into his pillow when Rodney snapped his fingers, saying, "And you should look surprised."

John lifted his head from the pillow. "What?"

"It's a surprise party so there will be screaming and a lot of pissed off people if you don't look like you never even suspected." Rodney explained with a shrug.

"I wish I _had_ never suspected," John said pointedly.

"Well, so do I. You would have least have acted like you were a rational, grateful friend if we'd surprised you instead of being an asshole." Rodney sat down on the edge of the bed, his body pressed against John's back.

"Just because I don't want to have a party and celebrate getting another year older with streamers and confetti doesn't make me an asshole." John rubbed at his face tiredly.

"No, actually you've been an asshole for months, really." Rodney had that tone in his voice that meant he had just stumbled upon another brilliant epiphany. He smiled suddenly and snapped his fingers, pointing at John. "You have. You've been a complete ass."

John snorted. "How do you figure?"

"I poured my heart out to you and you just shut me down like it doesn't even affect you. I'm sorry, but now that I think about it I find I'm a little offended."

John tried not to laugh. He rolled over onto his other side so he could actually look at Rodney. "Poured your heart out? You _never_ did anything like that!"

"I proposed!" Rodney's mouth fell open.

"A business arrangement!" John snapped back.

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous. Rodney rolled his eyes. "We've been in love for years. I was just trying to make an honest man out of you, fat load of good that it did me."

John should probably have objected, that was his first instinct. His second thought was to act surprised, just to piss Rodney off. But the fact was that they all (Elizabeth, Carson, Radek, John, and Rodney) had been in love with each other since the minute they stepped through that stargate and into their home. And if what was between John and Rodney had somehow taken a slightly different track than all the rest, well, it wasn't surprising, really. So John went with his third reaction instead.

"I know," he shrugged.

"And I think that--" John could see the little gears in Rodney's head stop and rewind. "Oh. Well. Good."

John smiled.

"But you're still being an asshole about it," Rodney said pleasantly.

"I'm going to kill you just to get the life insurance," John said with equal amity.

"You'll have to marry me first," Rodney said smugly.

**

"Look, I'm still not marrying you. Sex does not equal marriage," John said on the way to the party.

"Fantastic sex," Rodney corrected.

"Yeah, but that's not the point." John rolled his eyes.

"The point, John, is that you're an idiot when it comes to these things and you're just going to have to let me do the thinking for you," Rodney said brightly. "Marriage is our best option financially and really, considering the very many times you willing risk life and limb to be Atlantis's very own superstar, it's also, medically speaking, a good idea. Someone's going to have to pay for your bills and unless I get a certificate with our names on it I am not going to be contributing to the Save the Idiot fund."

John narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Wait a minute. I thought this was all about how you were going to die and Kavanagh was going to steal your work."

Rodney shrugged, his eyes alight with amusement. "Well, I don't want you to think that your situation is entirely insignificant."

John snorted, smiling. "Right."

Half of Atlantis, and a good portion of the Athosians, appeared to have crammed themselves into the Mess Hall and the shout of "Surprise!" was damn near deafening. John put on his very best 'surprised' face, not for Rodney's benefit, but for everyone else's. There was food, most importantly cake, along with the streamers, confetti, and music coming through the intercom system. The pile of presents in one corner was pretty significant and John found himself warming to the party idea after all.

Most of the gifts had to have come over on the Daedalus at some point, so John suspected that Rodney had been planning this for a while. Teyla had gotten him a supply of the Fronven tea, which meant clearly Rodney had told her more than John was comfortable with. But she also had made him a football by hand so John didn't bother to get worked up about any of it. Elizabeth gave him a plant in an Ancient vase, which was par for the course because they'd been exchanging Ancient decorative objects for the last four years running.

Ronon had somehow managed to find a gun almost exactly like his own and John couldn't actually convey his utter joy.

Rodney said, "Oh, God, he has that _look_."

And Ronon just smiled.

Rodney's gift was the actual Hail Mary football signed by Flutie complete with certificate of authenticity (which meant Rodney was totally not exaggerating about being the bread winner- by several decimal points- in the relationship) and a hand-made, miniature, remote controlled puddlejumper. It was a silly, useless gift that easily could have been a dig that John wasn't a kid anymore but Rodney's hopeful expression nixed that idea and, anyway, it was just about the coolest thing _ever_. John spent most of the rest of the party flying it around the ceiling of the mess hall.

**

Rodney walked John back to his bedroom, both of them laden down with John's bounty, the puddlejumper buzzing happily alongside of them. The first thing Rodney did when they got inside was pull the remote control out of John's hand and turn the thing off, then he unloaded the gifts from John's arms.

"So, thanks," John said, a little awkward because the party _had_ been kind of cool.

"Happy Birthday," Rodney said, with a generous air.

John rolled his eyes and started to undress. "Thank you again, Rodney."

"You're, um, welcome." Rodney coughed.

John turned around, shirt up to his chin and almost half off. "What?"

"Your presents have been safely put away. I am no longer your pack mule." Rodney said unnecessarily.

John scanned the room and nodded. "Okay."

Rodney sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't supply Birthday Sex, John?"

John smiled lopsidedly, pulling his shirt all the way off. "I get more, huh?"

"Oh, please." Rodney rolled his eyes. "Do I have to make the obligatory bad jokes about unwrapping your present and--"

John closed the distance between them in the space of that half sentence and then he took Rodney's chin in his hands and pressed their mouths together. It was sloppy kiss and John soon moved on to the curve of Rodney's jaw, and on up to the bottom of his ear. He tugged Rodney's shirt up, sliding his hands across the warm skin under it. "Not necessary," he whispered, gently biting at the ridge of Rodney's ear.

"Or," Rodney gasped, "I could just ask you to fuck me."

John froze, tongue out and then pulled away to actually look at Rodney. "I. What? I mean." He coughed loudly and tried again. "Are you sure?"

Rodney gave him a look, but his response came out rushed. "Yes, I'm sure. It's not really all that difficult and I have faith that you can actually figure out where tab A fits into slot B. So let me get the stuff from my jacket and can we just please?"

It wasn't like John was going to say no.

Rodney's predictions of visual irregularities were a little exaggerated, but not by much, and John really thought that maybe he was wrong about the whole puddlejumper thing. Because when he finally thrust in, his breath got caught somewhere in his throat and the only thing he was really aware of was Rodney's body under him and the way his groans tasted.

He thought that maybe yeah, this wouldn't be a bad way to spend the rest of his life.

**

In the end, they didn't get married on Atlantis. Well, okay, they did, but that was the second time.

The first ceremony happened on MRX- 654, six months after Rodney turned 40, where Rodney ended up saving an entire civilization from a ZPM-like device that was going into overload. Unfortunately, Rodney couldn't get to the device without going into a 'sacred' forest and while he didn't get caught going into the forest, he did leaving it.

John was prepared to tell some story about Rodney having dedicated his life to the pursuit of science and was a virgin because generally 'sacred' meant 'people getting laid need not apply'.

Turned out, though, that this forest was sacred to 'joined' couples and since Rodney wasn't married he either had to 'join' with someone or face punishment that involved sticks and a lot of sharp metal objects. The Ncai people were grateful to Rodney and had no desire to 'punish' him (which John was _so_ not going to allow _anyway_ ) and offered up any of their village maidens for the sacrifice.

John was going to object loudly and angrily but McKay beat him to it so the leader of the Ncai had said, firmly though apologetically, "Then he must wed with one of you."

Rodney sputtered, Ronon brought out the big gun, Teyla tried to negotiate and John just said, "Cool."

(Mostly John said it because he knew the look on McKay's face would be totally worth it. And the look on McKay's face after they got the ceremonial paint applied was even better.)

It wasn't a legally accepted union because the SGC had an official policy detailing the exact specifications required to sanction an off-world ceremony. John guessed there had been a lot of problems with that in the past. (According to Rodney there was one unfortunate incident where the entirety of SG-1 had gotten themselves hitched and that had been the final straw. John understood because there were violations of fraternization rules, the then-DADT strictures, and that law against bigamy. Rodney suggested that it actually had more to do with the fear of getting immigration involved because of Teal'c.)

They'd come home with matching blue whorls painted all over their bodies and matching ceremonial mugs. Rodney was in shock for about an hour, all told, and then he dragged John bodily into Elizabeth's office to announce that John had finally given in, Rodney had won, and could she please make it legal right this instant?

It was about three weeks before Elizabeth actually presided over a small private ceremony (private meaning almost all of Atlantis had found a way to crowd onto the balcony, or around the video feed Radek helpfully provided) and proper paperwork got filed with the Canadian government.

John always gave Rodney a hideous bouquet on the anniversary of their famed Alien Ceremony of Love. And Rodney always sent John about ten emails (though it varied year to year) on the anniversary of the legal ceremony saying something akin to, "Hypothesis is now a working theory. Also, you were a moron."

And John generally replied back with "Gee, thanks, McKay. I love you too."


End file.
